


Regrets.

by Mayfenhareltakeyou



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, We find out about Alni in the second chapter, a bit of nsfw, and then getting caught by dorian, in the form of not so explicit fingering, who is very smug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 13:28:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16018892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayfenhareltakeyou/pseuds/Mayfenhareltakeyou
Summary: 1000 years ago, Solas and his mate, Athras, entered the Uthenera. However, pregnancy and Uthenera do not mix, and results in Athras waking up 21 years prior to Solas. Too weak to care for her child, he is taken by the current Keeper of the Lavellan Clan, a bigoted sociopath named Belraj, to be raised by the Lavellen clan.This is the origins of the Dread Wolf's son, Alnifenen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is merely part one. I can't be fucked writing the other parts at 11:20 pm. All chapters are in parts, featuring a different series of events. Part 1 follows Athras and Solas as they enter Uthenera, and Athras ends up waking 21 years prior to Solas. She gives birth, and her son is taken from her.

The serenity of the temple was concerning to Athras, one who spent most of her 47 thousand years alive fighting. She sought combat, and had the skills to win it. Although, the last few months- a handful of years after the creation of the Veil- she had come to a rapid halt in her combat. She was pregnant. Not heavily as of yet, but pregnant none the less. Solas and Athras had always been an.. adventurous couple, not shying away from sex. The two of them had easily done it hundreds of thousands of times, if not millions, and Athras had never once been pregnant. Solas’ sperm count, for lack of a better word, was pretty much nonexistent. The child was a miracle, the chances of its conception 1 in a billion. 

But Athras wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. She wanted her child to be born in a world where magic still flourished as ripe as it had for her. Athras had three choices; have the child born in a world she and her mate had destroyed through the creation of the Veil. Enter Uthenera, still pregnant, and birth the child upon awakening, or the option she was dreading. Kill the child. 

Athras, being ‘logical’, opted for Uthenera. At least she knew that when she woke, her mate would be there. 

She turned to Solas, his back to her as he surveyed the main hall of the Temple. It was an old temple, stinking of dirt and muck, once dedicated to Fen’harel,but long since abandoned. Athras and Solas had lived here, once upon a time. When they were young, their rebellion against the Evanuris only in its opening stages, the two had made this their home. All who came were freed slaves, or those who were looking to be freed. It was a marvellous structure, but now, it was barely a ruin, the walls in disarray, left abandoned when Athras and Solas’s armies had begun to grow to thousands, and then hundreds of thousands. 

“You can really smell the age, can’t you?” Athras chided, surveying the area. Solas nodded and turned, looking to her.

“As good a place as any, I suppose. It should hold up for.. well, here’s hoping a thousand years.” He muttered. He walked to his mate, looking down to her, and then her stomach. “You know how this will work, yes? You enter Uthenera same time as me, and we awaken the same time, just in time for the baby.” 

Athras shivered. Not from the gust of wind that was brushing past them, but because of the sheer intensity of Solas standing over her. He was not a small man, standing at 6 foot, his hair to his back. 47 thousand years, and she still wasn’t used to how intense he seemed at times.

“I’ve got it, vhenan. You’ve told me the plan over 50 times. It stuck after the second.” She smiled. Solas sighed and rested his hands on her hips, his thumbs gently rubbing the growing bump that was her stomach. 

“Ir abelas..” He whispered. He gently took her hand in his and led her from the main hall, leading her to one of the diverting rooms, to the room that used to be their own. It was the most preserved room, with only a thin sheen of dust covering most of the remaining items. Books lay where they were left, scattered across Solas’ old desk, a banner spread across the wall above their hearth, Athras’ old armour, that had always been just a bit too tight, left on the mannequin in the corner of the room. In the centre of the room was the bed. It was nothing special, as Athras and Solas were creatures of simplicity, and this showed it. A bear skin served as a cover, good for cold nights, of which there were many. 

“This bed brings back lots of memories.” Athras chuckled. Solas smiled. 

“Indeed. When we had far too much stamina, and time to kill.” He chuckled and crossed his arms. With a huff, he laid down on one side of the bed, one arm behind his head, the other across his stomach, “Still as uncomfortable as I remember. No matter. Practically over aesthetics is the way the go.” 

Athras gingerly laid down next to him, fighting back a sneeze from the layer of dust. “You can provide the aesthetics.” She muttered. She rested her head next to his, watching him carefully. “Are you ready?” She asked.

Solas turned his head and looked at her before nodding. “Yes. I believe I am.” With that, Solas sat up, and reached into his front chest pocket and pulled out two small vials, filled with a red liquid. Athras took one, opening the lid. It smelt almost fruity, though both of them didn’t know the contents of the potion. Solas took the lid off his too, sighing. He looked at her for about a minute in silent.

 

“Well… to a better life, and our unborn child.” She whispered. Her normal, cheerful, almost lustrous voice was quiet, as if she was scared. Truth is, she was. As was Solas.

“To a better life.. and our child.” Solas replied, his voice equally as quiet. The two downed their drinks, placing their vials on the floor near them. 

Athras sighed and pressed her forehead to his for a few seconds before gently kissing him, Solas ensuring the kiss lingered. She pulled away, laid down, and rested her head on his chest, Solas wrapping his arm around her, tugging her closer. 

“Ar lath ma, vhenan.” Athras gulped. 

“Ar lath ma, vhenan.” The reply came.

The two of them closed their eyes, and were immediately swept into darkness.

 

979 years later, and Athras awoke. Immediately, there was a struggle, as the invisible hands of the Fade fought to drag her back down, but she fought, and slowly opened her eyes. There was immediate pain, the sun beaming through the hole in the roof almost blinding her. 

She groaned and with great difficulty, pushed herself upright, one hand around her significantly larger belly. As she had entered Uthenera, so did the baby, but clearly the baby hadn’t stopped growing, and Athras was easily comparable to someone who was 9 months pregnant. 

Athras managed to open her eyes fully, groaning hoarsely. She looked at her mate, still in Uthenera. He looked terrible, for lack of a better word. He looked like a fresh corpse. He was significantly paler than when he had entered, and.. his hair was missing, as if it had decayed from the thousand years they had slept. His eyes and cheeks were gaunt, his stomach skinnier than had been expected. Athras wondered if she looked similar, but just came to the conclusion that she did. 

A jolt of pain brought her back to reality, and she cried out weakly, but immediately covered her mouth. She nudged Solas, hoping to rouse him, but no response. 

“Solas?” She barely managed to even speak his name. Still no response. With extreme effort, and managed to stand, uneasy on her feet. She slowly removed her tattered pants, and laid on the floor beside the hearth, panting heavily. She couldn’t wait for Solas to wake. The baby had clearly waited long enough, and wanted out. Now.

Another contraction shot through her, and she cried out, not bothering to quiet herself this time. Well, this was happening. No infirmary, no doctors, or anything. Great.

 

Six hours on, and Athras was wearing thin. Her stamina, which had once been seemingly endless, was now drained, and she was covered in sweat, blood on the floor in front of her. The pain was equal to that of being tortured by Andruil, and experience Athras had unfortunately experienced.

With one final great push, and an ear-splitting scream that could have shattered windows, it was done. There was a gentle cry, and the defeated Athras gently leaned down, gingerly picking up the newborn babe. He was a massive baby, blood-soaked, with piercing green eyes, like his mother, and a tuft of hair the same colour Solas’ had been. He made a funny gurgling noise and reached out, before stopping, and letting out a loud cry. Athras almost dropped him when he did so, the cry painful. Her naturally heightened hearing wasn’t helpful in this situation. 

“Sh..” She gently shushed him. She slowly picked up the remains of her tattered pants, not seeing another alternative, and gently dried him off. 

“What should we name you, then, hmm?” She whispered, her voice still hoarse. The baby let out another cry, causing her to wince. “I’ll think of something…” She sighed. 

 

Solas still hadn’t woke. Athras knew what that meant. It hadn’t been a thousand years yet. It must be just under, perhaps the 970 year mark, maybe 980? Athras didn’t know. 

She pushed herself up, clutching her son. If she looked anything like Solas in that moment, she knew there was no way in hell she could produce milk for this child, let alone care for it. She needed to find someone.

With a final kiss to Solas’ forehead, not really daring to kiss his seemingly decomposing lips, she whispered, “we’ll come get you soon, my love. When your son and I are better, and you are awake. Believe in that.” She sniffed and stood upright, adjusted her now quiet son, and headed out of the room, grabbing the banner beforehand to use as makeshift pants, as her own were wrapped around her child. 

Athras could barely walk, and had no idea where she was going, the forests surrounding the temple having changed.

After weakly walking for what seemed like hours, Athras could spot what seemed to be a small camp in the distance, set up in the midst of the trees. She made her way to them, very weakly calling out, “Hello?” as she approached.

Immediately there was silence. 

A few seconds later, and there was a knife to her throat, and she paused. “Don’t hurt me, please. I have a newborn, and.. I can’t care for him. He needs help.” She gulped. The knife slowly dropped, and a short elf walked out in front, sheathing his blade.

“My apologies. We thought you were raiders. Here, pass the babe; I will take him to my Keeper.” The man, or boy, held an unusual accent, and seemed barely older than 25. Athras, unwillingly, handed her son over. 

“He needs milk.” She whispered, voice quieter than before. There were dark spots surrounding her vision, and she was losing focus. The boy, quickly rushing off to the camp in the distance, didn’t notice her fall to the ground.

 

When Athras awoke again, she felt better. She didn’t feel as much a corpse as she did earlier.

She groaned and opened her eyes, taking a second to take in her surroundings. She was in a small hut, on a reasonably comfortable bed, an elven woman standing by her, murmuring something as she pressed her hands to Athras’ still rather large stomach. Athras flinched and attempted to sit up, but a man pressed his hand against her arm, pushing her back down.

“Relax, da’len. Arlise’el is our best healer. She is helping you. Your son is in good hands, being fed by one of the mothers.” A calm voice soothed her, and she let out a soft growl, but softened. 

The man moved into view, an older man, grey hair, with the slave tattoos of Dirthamen donning his face. The woman helping Athras had them too. 

“I am Keeper Belraj Lavellan. You collapsed after Eolas took your son away to be cared for. I carried you here, and we’ve been healing you for a few days now, but you were in bad shape. A few more days, and you should be alright.” He smiled, and Athras scowled. 

“Keeper? Never heard of a Keeper before.” She questioned. Her voice was almost back to normal, although a little quiet.

“You’ve never heard of a Keeper? How? You are Dalish; you have Andruil’s vallaslin.” The Keeper frowned slightly. Athras scoffed at the mention of the vallaslin.

“I’m not Dalish, mate. I don’t even know what Dalish is. Nor was this vallaslin applied willingly. It ain’t normal vallaslin. It was burnt onto my skin. “ She sniffed. This was true. Thousands of years ago, Andruil had done unspeakable things to Solas, and Athras had never let down after that, swearing to hunt the bitch down. Evidentially, it had left to Athras being tortured for 300 years, until Solas had rescued her, but it was already too late. Andruil had carved a deep scar that spread from her cheek to forehead vertically, and burnt her vallaslin into Athras’ skin, marking her. Solas had healed it for the most part, but Andruil’s magic had made it bordering physically impossible to remove.

“You..have you been living under a rock? How do you not know of the Dalish? Are you a city elf?” He questioned. Athras squinted and shook her head again. 

“Look, I just woke up, and I really don’t want to be bombarded with questions. Can I see my son?” She asked. The Keeper sighed softly, and looked down.

“I’m afraid not. We are a travelling clan, and he is one of us now. We are low on youngsters, and he will be a fine edition to clan Lavellan. We are sorry it had to be this way.” The Keeper looked her in the eyes. Athras let out a snarl and, despite the pain that shot through her abdomen, stood up, grabbing the keeper by the cloak.

“He is my son. You cannot keep him from me, you son of a bitch.” She snarled. She was taller than the man, but he didn’t seem fazed. He just shook his head.

“I’m sorry. My decision is final. Your son will be raised to be like us; a Dalish elf of Clan Lavellan.Once you are healthy again, you can leave. Do not bother tracking us. We have done this before; taking a babe from the parent, because the parent is too weak to care for it. It is a simple practise.” This infuriated Athras further.

“He’s my fucking son!” She yelled.

“Yes, I am aware. I’m sorry.” The Keeper almost got a fist to the head, but he pressed two fingers to her forehead, and her vision went dark once again. 

 

Athras woke a few minutes later to the same female nurse still caring for her. She had been silent through the whole ordeal.

“I am truly sorry. I disapprove of the act as well, but the Keeper… he punishes those who go against them. I will care for your son, I promise you.” She promised, looking Athras in the eyes. Athras, realising that she was truly far too weak to care for her son the way she wanted, nodded, after a short while.

“I.. okay.. But keep the Keeper away from him.” She gulped. The woman nodded.

“Of course.. What is his name, if I may ask?” She raised an eyebrow.

Athras went silent. She hadn’t thought of a name, but she remembered something.. a memory, from long ago, of her best friend, during his final breaths, whispering to her, ‘remember me,’ before handing her a small pendant; a wolf tooth. The man was named Alnifenen. 

“Alnifenen. His name is Alnifenen.. and please.. give him this, when he comes of age. Tell him his mother gave it to him, and.. make sure he knows that.. his mother and father love him very much. And that we’ll see him one day. That’s a promise.” She withdrew the tooth from her pocket, and handed it to her. The woman smiled and nodded.

“It will be done. Now. Rest. You are weak, and worrying will do you no good.” This brought on a soft laugh from Athras, who laid her head back, closing her eyes.


	2. Reunions and Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After locating Solas, him and her get a bit.. close, shortly before finding they have company. Suspicions follow Dorian's visit about who the Inquisitor really is, and his connection to the couple, and his uncanny resemblance to Solas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some NSFW below.

21 years later.

The Inquisitor had never sat right with the other children in his clan, and he never knew why. He was always ostracised, for reasons he did not know. The Inquisition was the one place he felt… accepted.

From a young age, he had always stood out. Keeper Deshanna had suggested it was because of his heightened magical abilities. He was substantially more powerful than any other mage of his age, and the Keeper had noticed this. 

After the Conclave, the Inquisitor, or ‘Herald’, as he had been known, found what he considered a family. A band of misfits that called him leader. He loved it, although the position of power pushed onto him without so much as a warning made him.. uneasy to say the least. He had even found found love, in one who called himself Dorian Pavus. The two had kicked off immediately, and when the two reached Skyhold, their growing friendship had developed into more. 

The elf had never known his parents, as the Keeper prior to Deshanna, whose name remained a mystery to him, refused to tell him anything. The only thing he had been told was of his mother’s fiery temper, and how she stalked like a wounded wolf away from the clan upon her leaving. Why she left him, he didn’t know. What he did know, however, is that he was gifted a small wolf tooth pendant upon his coming of age, when he earned his vallaslin, and that his eyes looked like his mother’s; a piercing green that could be seen from half a mile away.

As of the current moment, the Inquisitor was seated on his ‘throne’, head of the main hall of Skyhold, preparing to judge a prisoner. Apparently she had been found lurking just beyond the gates, watching them all in silence, scanning them out. 

The woman in question was led, surprisingly not fighting the guard’s grip, to the ground just in front of the throne, blindfolded. She had dark hair, seemed to be of a fair complexion, was extremely muscular, to the point where he feared she might just burst out of her armour, and she was clearly an elf. She also seemed to be… unusually tall for an elf. 

The guard, a bit too rough, ripped off the blindfold, letting it fall around her neck. The woman huffed and glared at the guard for a few seconds, before looking at the man on the throne. He could now see a dark scar, spreading from her forehead, across her eye, and down to her cheek; it suited her, weirdly enough. She had vallaslin, although it wasn’t the traditional. She had an older design of Andruil’s vallaslin.. burnt onto her face? As if she’d been forced to wear it. 

“Right, so I’ve conducted no crimes, that I’m aware of, so the least you could do is inform me of what the fuck I’m doing here? One second, I’m outside the gates, the next, I’m jumped by three guards, blindfolded, and dragged to a cell that smelt like mouldy cheese, fungus and straight up death. Explain?” She raised an eyebrow. 

Solas, who was standing against the door that led to the rotunda, stiffened visibly. 

The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow, “you ought to be nicer to your captives.” He chuckled. The woman scoffed.

“Nicer? Your goons broke my nose for no apparent reason.” This was true. There was a dried streak of blood going from her nose to her lip.

“And I apologise for that, but you have been lurking outside Skyhold for days now. We had left you be, thinking you’d leave, but you did not. Tell me, what is your name, and your purpose?” He straightened up. The woman had his eyes, a feature that was slightly concerning.

“My name is none of your concern. And I was merely looking for someone. I had an inkling he was here, and was scoping the area before making a move, so that this,” she gestured to the guards with a tilt of her head, “wouldn’t happen. Clearly, he isn’t here, so if you’d untie me, I’ll be out of your hair in the no time.” She gave a very unconvincing smile, revealing what looked like a.. full set of canines. Strange. Iron Bull, who was laying against one of the walls, noticed this too, and frowned. Having a Ben-Hassrath on hand is always handy. 

“Who ar-“ He had started to speak, to ask who she was looking for, but was cut off as Solas practically sprung across the main hall, to the prisoner. Clearly, he’d noticed something he hadn’t. 

“Athras?” His voice was quiet, and unsure. The woman tensed, and let out a low growl as she twisted her head to see who had called what he could only assume was her name.

When she twisted her head, she noticed the man, and seemed to go limp, her face one of utter shock and disbelief.

“Solas?” Her voice took on a softer tone. There were voices throughout the crowd, Orlesians making quiet remarks. Some of the Inner Circle looked confused, and for good reason. As far as anyone knew, Solas was a loner, and had no family that they knew of. 

“Untie her. Now.” Solas demanded, his voice dropping in tone. The guards looked at one another, and then at the Inquisitor. He sighed, but eventually nodded. They cut the rope from her wrists, and took a step back. A second later, the woman known as Athras grabbed Solas, pulling him into a hug. Solas let out a deep sigh and buried his face in her shoulder. 

“You know this woman, Solas? How?” He asked, frowning. Athras and Solas pulled apart, but stood close.

Before Solas could speak, Athras spoke up, “we are together. Have been since he was 14, so.. 31 years.” There was a shocked gasp through the crowd, and even Varric looked confused. In his confusion, he stood forward. 

“Chuckles, how come you never mentioned her?” He asked, crossing his arms.

“There was never any need to, Child of the Stone. My relationship with Athras is no one’s concern except for our own.” He defended. Athras snorted.

“Vhenan, that is not something you would have said 15 years ago. You used to be all about ‘spreading the news’.” She smirked. Solas went slightly red, and smiled faintly.

The Inquisitor cleared his throat loudly, getting the couple’s attention, “I will talk to the two of you later. For now, go make yourself comfortable, Athras. I need to speak to my advisors. The court is dismissed!” He stood up and sighed, walking off in the direction of the War room, the advisors following. 

Athras took Solas’ hand in her own, smiling. “Where to?” She asked. He smiled and led her off to the rotunda, where he spent most of his time, Varric and Cole following suit. Upon reaching the rotunda, Varric approached Athras.

“So.. you’re the one who’s been on Chuckle’s mind lately?” He raised an eyebrow. Solas, who had let go of Athras’ hand to walk to his desk, frowned. Athras chuckled.

“I suppose I am, unless there’s another woman I’m unaware of.. or a man. Solas isn’t picky.” She laughed. Varric chuckled and crossed his arms, looking at Solas.

“You swing both ways, huh? That’s surprising, if I’m honest.” This caused Solas to blush viciously. 

“It isn’t so much an attraction as it is he will stick his dick in anything that speaks the common tongue.” Athras laughed. Solas went even darker and sat at his desk.

“Your language got vulgar in the time I haven’t seen you, clearly.” Solas chided. Athras scoffed and walked to his desk, standing behind him. She rested her hands on his shoulders, leaning close to his ear.

“Oh darling, you should just hear me in bed. I’m twice as vulgar.” She murmured. Varric, who seemed to have heard this, let out a very loud laugh, looking at the blushing bald elf.

“Well, I think it’s high time I left you two alone. I think you two need it.” He smirked, and went to walk out of the room. 

Cole, who everyone seemed to have forgotten, somehow, looked up.

“Long, she looked; seeking, searching, but never found. Always there, always close, but so far away, for so long; reunited now, like a wolf to its mate..” The boy whispered. Varric paused and looked at him. 

“Come on, kid.” He gently ushered out of the room, leaving an overly confused Athras staring at the door they left through.

“Who was that?” She muttered.

“Cole. A spirit of compassion.He can.. ‘read’ people’s hurt. He’s virtually harmless, although he has a tendency to make people forget what him.” Solas explained. Athras shook her head, and looked at Solas again.

“…what are we talking about?” She murmured. Solas snorted, and turned to his desk. Athras shook her head again, and rubbed her face. “Nevermind.. anyway. Now that we’re together again, what shall we do? From memory, this rotunda had become a favourite of yours once upon a time..” She smirked. In a fluent movement, Athras shuffled into Solas’ lap, facing him. She pressed her hands to his chest, bringing them up to his neck, eventually cupping his jaw. Solas let out a small breath, staring at the woman in silence. Without another word, he leaned up and kissed her as he used to, deep and impatient. He treated every second with this woman as if it was going to be his last.

Athras smiled and kissed back, running her thumbs over his jaw slowly, remembering every freckle, and every little wrinkle that she had memorised thousands of years before. Solas, clearly not suited with just heavy making out, stood up, picking Athras up with him, leaning her over the desk. He pressed his hips to hers, forcing a small gasp out of hers. Between trying to breath and kissing him, she managed to get out, “well, that’s a familiar feeling..” before returning to the task at hand. 

She stiffened, but relaxed as she felt his hand drifting along her waist, making its way down her chest, eventually sliding into her pants. Solas always was exceptionally skilled with his hands, and the small gasp Athras let out proved just that. 

The sound of someone clearing their throat got Athras’ attention, but clearly not Solas’. He moved on from kissing her lips, to her jaw, and eventually her neck, his hand moving reasonably fast by now. Athras, breathless, tilted her head to look at the person who was watching the two of them. He was a taller man, with a well-kept haircut, and moustache that definitely said ‘Tevinter.’ He was watching them very curiously, a cock-sure smirk on his face. 

“Solas.. we have company.” Was all she could get out. Solas paused in his actions, the tips of his ears going red. He very slowly withdrew his hand from in between Athras’ legs, did a small ‘ahem’, and took a step back, his hands in front of his crotch to ensure the man didn’t see anything else… incriminating. 

“After that little showdown in the main hall, I figured I would come introduce myself to the newcomer, but it seems you two are a little… busy. By all means, continue. I can come back later.” He smirked. Solas went red and sat at the desk. Athras pushed herself up, wiping her forehead of sweat.

“Nope, we’re done. We can finish later.” She murmured, “I apologise for what you may have just…. Seen. The name’s Athras.” She walked a tad closer to him, resting against the desk in a way that definitely got Solas’ attention. 

“Dorian Pavus. I was unaware Solas had any relationships with anyone or anything besides spirits; he’s very.. secretive.” Dorian crossed his arms, looking at the man in question, who looked like he really wanted to pelt himself off the highest roof in Skyhold.

“Yes, well, he wasn’t always like that. What you just witnessed was one of the milder things we’ve done in public, believe me.” She laughed, as did Dorian.

“Well, that’s definitely different. You know, Solas, I was just thinking to myself… gosh, the Inquisitor sure does look a like you, don’t you think? Like a younger version, only with.. far better taste in fashion, and… well, your eyes, Athras. Strange that, hmm?” He tilted his head. Solas and Athras looked at one another, frowning. Solas shrugged and turned to a book on his desk.

“Coincidence, probably. He’s Dalish, judging from the vallaslin; they all look the same.” She scoffed. Dorian raised an eyebrow.

 

“Vallaslin? Is that what it is called? Hm. Are you Dalish? You have the same sort of markings, although yours give off.. a strange feeling. They feel magical, if that’s even possible.” He queried. Athras frowned and let out a low growl.

“No. I am not Dalish. I’d much rather die than live like one of those.. rats.” She hissed. Dorian squinted.

“Why so aggressive towards them? The Inquisitor is the only Dalish elf I know, but he’s nice. What do you have against them?” He asked. Athras growled again, the sound almost animalistic; it got Solas’ attention. 

“They stole my son from me, a long time ago. He was a newborn, and they took him from me, and left me for dead. I want nothing to do with those people. They could all burn and I wouldn’t bat an eye.” She crossed her arms. Solas let out a soft sigh, and looked down. Dorian put his arm to his side, stepping closer.

“I’m sorry, truly. That’s a fair enough reason.” He took a step back, “I should leave you two. Perhaps I will speak to you again soon.” He gave a brief smile. Athras nodded, and the man walked out, leaving the couple alone again. Athras looked at Solas solemnly. 

“I.. it’s true. Shortly after I woke, I gave birth. I was too weak for milk, so I went for help. I found a clan, but they took him. One of the women; she promised that she’d give him the pendant, and name him Alnifenen, as a reminder. I can only hope he’s still alive, although the chances are slim.” She sighed. Solas let out a small breath and stood up, walking to his mate. He took her hips in hand, moving closer.

“I’m sure he’s out there, somewhere. And.. Dorian does raise a good point. The Inquisitor does look awfully similar to me. He even has my haircut from when I was younger, with the shaved sides…” He mused. Athras frowned slightly.

“Solas… what is the Inquisitor’s name? And what clan is he from?” She asked. Solas frowned.

“Alnifenen. He’s from clan Lavellan. He’s only young. I’m surprised a 21 year old managed to get such a high position, even if he has the mark.. why do you ask?” He tilted his head. Athras broke out in a small smile.

“Well, I think I just found our son..”

**Author's Note:**

> I was pretty much dead at the end so the quality of my writing probably dropped, whoop


End file.
